The Unfortunate Event of SVU
by No Wishing on the Never Star
Summary: Can Olivia take the news she receives of Alex's condition after her shooting?  Will Alex survive?  What happens to the couple after that horrid day?  Deals with suicide and selfmutilation.femslash.  i posted a new story called Wrath..find it on my page


**Title: The Unfortunate Event of SVU  
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**Author: OLIVIAplusALEX4eva**

**Summary: Can Olivia take the news she gets of Alex's condition after her shooting? Will Alex survive? What happens to the couple after that horrid day?**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, just wishful thinking on my part. The BOLD ITALIZED words belong to me; they're parts of my self-written poem.**

**Warnings: Beware, femmeslash. I shouldn't even have to warn you, all love should be accepted among everyone whether it be same–sex or heterosexual. Gender of both the parties shouldn't make a difference. Anyways, contains femmeslash between two consenting adult females. The whole topic of EO, I believe, is highly overused and other pairings need to be shown no matter what type of sexual orientation.**

**Genre: Drama / Angst**

**Rating: Rated T for violence and self-mutilation / suicide **

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**Olivia's P.O.V.**

_**Hoping and Praying**_

I'm sitting here in the Emergency Room's deserted waiting room. Waiting for your doctor to release your condition to me. I have a right to know, even though I'm not your family. I'm your girlfriend.

Elliot is sitting to my left, fidgeting with a loose string on his shirt. There's no one but Elliot and me here waiting on you; Fin, Munch, and Cragen have to work regardless of the circumstances because there's a case that still needs solving.

I'm not crying yet. I know it seems impersonal for me not to cry but I have to show hope. I have to show everyone that I believe that you'll be okay. I want to believe it, but there was so much... So much blood for you not to be alright.

Blood transfusion? I know we're the same blood type so I've already donated. Type O.

Is that what you need to survive? I'd give you all my blood if you needed it to make it through the operation. Your scar will be beautiful, just like you, when you get out of the surgery, even if **you** might find it ugly. I know you'll make it... _Hoping and praying._

I remember trying to push the metallic, sticky substance back into your lithe body, into your limp shoulder. Can you believe that was a hour ago? It seems like it occured five minutes ago; my adrenalin is still running.

My heart pumping so fast. So very fast.

How do I deal if you die?

_**Crying and Whimpering**_

The doctor walks calmly through the doorway that's leading to a string of rooms, one of them the operation room you're currently in.

His solemn look never falters. He walks up to Elliot and I, so we stand in anticipation.

My legs are shaky and I feel disoriented.

Elliot sense this and squeezes my shoulder trying to attempt to comfort me, to try to give me the strength to ask about you.

My eyes are pleading, begging, him to answer the unvoiced, evitable question.

His facial expression is replaced with one of grave disappointment. He hangs his head down, silently giving me the answer I feared the most.

Instantly my eyes water. No, no, no, no, I will **not** believe it! You weren't supposed to die, to leave me. I need you so much, so very much. I love you.

The doctor pats my shoulder out of concern and abruptly turns to leave us to talk and deal with your death.

Elliot's driving me home so I can be alone like I requested. He's concerned for me, I can tell, but I know that I'll be with you shortly.

I practically jump out of the car when Elliot drives up to the front of my apartment building. He's crying. That's ironic, two months ago he began to call you 'Ice Princess' but now you really are, just not in that sense. Your skin, your body, must be so cold. So very cold. You're a princess, **my** princess. You'll always be my princess.

I'll see you again, my love.

_**Screaming and Shouting**_

I'm standing in front of my kitchen table mindlessly staring at the glass vase lonely sitting upright in the middle. I feel irate, my rage is flaring uncontrollably.

I curl my fingers around the thick glass and pick the heavy object up.

I throw the vase, shattering it against the door frame.

I feel like my heart is shattering as if it was the glass vase instead.

I scream your name, begging you to come back to me, come back to life. But you don't, and I realize screaming isn't going to work.

_**Bleeding and Releasing**_

I stagger into the bathroom and kneel in front of the porcelain bathtub. I grab my pink razor from the bath-shelf and hold the gleaming blade in between my thumb and forefinger.

Rolling my sleeves up, I start to release my anger the best way I secretly know how. I cut my flesh, deeply.

Blood is dripping in huge, trickling drops to the tiled floor but I don't care.

_**Sobbing and Crying**_

I blindly walk into my bedroom and grab my police-issued 9mm gun from the bedside table and sit on the bed. Leaning against the headboard, I put the gun to my head.

That's when I started crying, started sobbing.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pull the trigger. For awhile I cough up blood and I suffer blinding pain that's ricocheting through my skull. It doesn't matter to me anymore. All that matters is being with you.

_I'm coming to be with you, Alex. My princess, my angel. We'll be together soon, I promise._

_**Painfully coughing  
**__**Blood pooling on the bed  
**__**Barely breathing  
**__**Peacefully sleeping**_

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R&R! please and thank you. This is something I thought of while looking through my poems. The _**Bold Italized**_ words are parts of my self-written poem. They belong to me. Other than that, the characters belong to Dick Wolf. Hope you enjoyed reading. 


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